Accursed
by adia.the.grey.one
Summary: Bella has chosen to ignore the town's silly superstitions about the Cullen mansion, and refuses to believe it's haunted, or that the gargoyles guarding it are more than they seem. In turn, that decision may claim her life. AU.
1. Angela's Warning

**Accursed**

**Chapter 1**

**Angela's Warning**

**I own nothing that pertains to Twilight. And just to say, this is AU, so there will be vampires, but not exactly canon vampires.**

* * *

"We are truly very sorry for your loss, Ms. Swan," I was told. Ted's voice was rather dull. It lacked character and sincerity.

"Yes, yes we are," Vanessa said in turn, pushing the navy folder across the desk. The lawyers were being so very pushy, and I didn't like it one bit. "But we do need to make some decisions, sooner rather than later."

So much for finding honest sympathy, much less a grace period to mourn. The death of a loved one didn't seem to really matter any more these days.

"Now," Ted continued, clearing his throat, "in your mother's will, it is clearly stated that when she passed away, her business would be turned over to you, her only daughter." He paced around the long, oak table, trying to appear professional but his impatience was as obvious as a red tulip amongst yellow dandelions. "However, it does continue to read that if you so choose not to inherit the business, you have the right to pass it along."

Now we were getting somewhere. This is what they were truly digging for. My refusal. My permission.

"Sorry, but there is no way that I could dishonor my mother by shunning the work she poured more than half of her life into."

It wasn't necessarily easy for me to talk about my mother, but it wasn't hard, either. The reality of it all, the heart attack, the hospital stay, the visitation, the funeral, the burial. All of it seemed to blur together. I felt numb to it. It was like my mind didn't want to fully comprehend the severity of what had happened, and what would happen in consequence. I made myself feel less guilty about it by saying eight days wasn't enough time to fully understand what my mom's death really meant. It didn't really help.

When they realized that I could not be swayed after another fifteen minutes of attempted negotiation, they allowed me to leave, the deal settled. I would be moving back to Forks, Washington by the end of the week, abandoning the world my mother had created for me here in Phoenix. My quickly earned business degree would finally be put to use, and I would be the new owner of the painfully successful Swan fortune, at twenty-one. It all felt too overwhelming. That's why I was moving closer to the source.

My mother had this bright idea when she was younger, right after she married my father. With the help of her more experienced friends, she opened a business, finding she had a knack for running a store despite her immaturity in nearly every single other level of her life. It was simple: a bookstore with a coffee shop inside. Simply titled Swan's, it quickly became successful, and within five years, mom had enough money to open up two other shops around the state of Washington.

I guess it could be said that she became a bit full of herself, thinking she deserved more than living in the tiny, droopy, dismal town of Forks, playing wife to a man she didn't fully love anymore and becoming unexpectedly pregnant with me. Their marriage lasted two years after I was born, and that's when she cut the cord and ran off with me to sunny Phoenix, a city she'd always been fascinated by.

She ran her stores from afar, hiring managers and assistants to take care of her business while she oversaw it all. The store's name did not change, although I knew for a fact that she longed to switch it to just Renee's, since she never remarried. She didn't like the Swan taint that seemed to follow her wherever she went. First, with the lengthy divorce bit, and then with me. Dad didn't want my last name changed, and my mother reluctantly complied with his wishes since he didn't put up too much of a fight during the custody battle.

I didn't even want to start diving into that hole, wondering why Charlie didn't fight for me as hard as my mother did. It was depressing, and since I would be living with him, it wouldn't do well to bring up old grudges. Over the years, I'd never visited Forks again. He always had to come to Arizona to visit me, and he did. I figured he was trying to make up for his decision to let Renee have me.

The house was empty, just as I expected, but at the same time, I half hoped that my mother would bounce down the stairs, hair a mess, and excitedly tell me about some new television show she'd found. She didn't, and instead I ascended the staircase, my pace slow, precise, and hesitant, and I started to pack. There was a lot to do, and I didn't have much time. The tears slowed the process, and more than once, I had to stop all together and curl up in her bed in an attempt to console myself.

Friday morning, I was on a plane, having sold the almost everything in the house that wasn't valuable to me, while everything that was followed me on wheels below, which was still a ton. It was hard letting my mother's things go, but I just had to suck it up and do it. The realization still hadn't come. I was in no hurry to rush it. The guilt was manageable. I endured the plane ride, sleeping most of the distance, and without much thought, changed planes as I grew closer to my destination.

Charlie was waiting for me, police uniform and all, past the security gate. His mustache was in place, as was his nearly blank stare. I faked a smile, and returned his hug.

"Welcome back, Bells," he said, his voice raspy. Evidence of thirty years of smoking.

"Thanks, dad." It took effort not to call him Charlie. Calling him 'dad' just didn't feel right. Misplaced inflection.

"How was the flight?"

"Fine. Just long."

"Good."

We took a few more steps in uncomfortable silence as we waited for the topic to make its entrance.

"And how are you? You know, with everything..."

"As fine as I can be."

"I wanted to come, Bells. I really did. It was just such short notice...and finances are a bit tight..."

Death was usually a short notice, I thought with a grimace. He knew I would have paid for his ticket,too, but I didn't say anything. I tried to believe that he had deeper reasons for not coming, and for some reason, he felt it better to make up an excuse and lie than to come out and tell me the truth.

"It's in the past, dad. Nothing we can do about it now."

"Bella!" came a loud, shrieking voice.

"What?" I was brought out of my memory trance, and remembered where I was. I was behind the counter, stirring a cup of coffee that had long since stopped steaming. I was in Forks, the wet greenery that I now had to call home. I sighed.

"What's up with you?" Jessica said, tilting her head.

"Nothing. Just daydreaming, I guess."

The teenager eyed me weirdly and then turned, wiping her hands on her apron. The girl was pretty nosy, and talkative, at least from what I'd gathered so far, but she worked hard, and I watched as she grabbed a rag and started to wipe down the counter. I glanced at my watch. It was nearly time to lock up for the night. I tried to forget about my issues with Charlie.

"I'm going to find Angela," I announced, and Jessica hummed, finishing up the closing process.

Angela was also a teenager, and thankfully she took orders better than Jessica did. Jessica obeyed with a kind of arrogance, which was probably from me being only a mere three years older than her. To her, I held a lot of power for someone so young.

And it also didn't help that I didn't have to work for it. She seemed to disregard the fact that I had to lose a parent in order to gain ownership. I sighed, and pushed my attention towards finding Angela. I didn't need to think about that at work. It was only my first day and already I was slacking. Granted, I own the place, so it didn't really matter.

When I found Angela, she was laying flat on her stomach, trying to squeeze her fingers underneath the gap between a bookcase and the carpeted floor. She groaned with the effort, and it looked like she was torturing her knuckles.

"Angela! What are you doing?"

She jumped, startled, and sat back on her heels. "I accidentally kicked a book underneath and was trying to get it out," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Don't worry about it." She smiled with me. "What all do you have left to do?"

She motioned to the rolling bookcase beside her. "I just need to stock these and that's all."

"Soon as you do, just come to the office so I can count your drawer."

"I will."

She continued to work while I worked on my checklist, doing everything else that neither of them could do. It was nice having the store completely set up. All I had to really do was make sure it ran smoothly. Day one was leaving me with very little stress. The store was small enough for the three of us to handle, even on a Saturday night. I tapped my pen against the clipboard, eying the vacant store. It was a bit odd, though, for there to be no customers, even if it was almost ten o'clock. The morning and afternoon had been busy enough.

I started counting Angela's drawer and noticed out of the corner of my eye that she looked nervous sitting in the chair beside me.

"Is everything okay?"

She smiled and picked at her nails. "Well, I know that you just got here yesterday, and everything.." She hesitated.

"Go ahead."

"Well, I was just wondering if I could have next weekend off?"

"Friday, Saturday, and Sunday?" I asked, needing exact confirmation. When she nodded, I debated while looking over the calendar that had the employee's hours sketched in. I might should have told her to ask the manager, who'd given himself tonight off since I was going to be working, but I had a good feeling about Angela.

"Sure. I'll just pick up your shifts."

She seemed a bit embarrassed. "Oh? Are you sure? Because that seems kind of selfish of me to do to you..."

I shrugged. "It's not like I have anything else to do." We shared another smile. I was beginning to really like Angela. When I looked at the clock, a question sparked. "Angela, is it normal for the store to be this quiet on a Saturday night?"

"Oh yes," she answered. "It's usually like this every night."

"Really? That's odd."

"It's because of the mansion."

Not that mansion nonsense again. That was all dad had been talking about since we made it home last night. Forks was a very superstitious town. I knew now that even the teens here believed the stories.

"Have you been told the story yet?"

I laughed a little. "Well, my dad told me about the rumors yesterday, but coming from him, it all just sounds like a joke."

Angela's expression turned to scorn. The flat line of her lips caused my smile to falter.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "but they aren't rumors."

The way she said it inflamed my curiosity. Maybe she knew something dad didn't. Maybe it would be somehow more believable to hear it from a regular person, not a father wearing a police uniform.

"Can you tell me?" I made my voice soft and sound thoroughly interested, hoping to make up for any offense I may have accidentally placed. She looked as though she forgave me. Her eyes became softer, although remained a little hard. They still looked serious.

"There have been several incidents. Several _strange_ incidents. Incidents no one can even begin to explain."

"What kind of incidents?"

"What exactly has your father told you?"

"Well," I began, pausing in an attempt to remember the entire conversation from last night, "he said that the only rule he was going to give me was that I was forbidden to go anywhere near the Cullen mansion." I smiled internally thinking about when he had continued stating that I was an adult, and he was going to try and treat me like one, even if I did live under his roof. "It's on this road, right?" She nodded. "He made me drive all the way around so I could come in from the other direction, and not have to pass it. He said that the place was just...evil. Haunted. The town avoids it at all cost."

"Well, he's telling you the truth."

"So, you're telling me that ghosts inhabit the Cullen mansion?"

"No."

"But you said it's haunted..."

"It's haunted by something much, much worse than a ghost."

Goosebumps pebbled on my exposed forearms. The severity and warning in Angela's voice shook me, placing me on edge. "What is it, then?"

"No one is really sure, but from what's happened, we know one thing for sure. It's not human, and it's not a ghost. Whatever haunts the property travels at night. Three people have gone missing in the last two years." Angela's expression grew sad for a moment and she peeled at the worn upholstery of the seat on her chair. "I knew one of the boys that were taken. His name was Eric. He was a daredevil, and went in when his friends made a bet with him. He never came back out. The other two people that went missing were an elderly couple who used to live near your house. I guess they walked too close one morning when they went out for their daily stroll. What lives in that mansion took them."

I gulped, trying to take all of this in. Could it really be true? Maybe the boy used the mansion as a cover up to run away...or maybe he was kidnapped. Perhaps the elderly couple simply moved?

"Has anyone actually witnessed anything strange?" I asked quickly.

She met my eyes again. "We've seen the gargoyles move."

I answered with a blank stare. Now she was sounding really crazy. "The gargoyles move?"

"Yes. There's six of them that perch on the rooftop. Everyday that I've looked, they are sitting somewhere different, but always in the front center. The space between them changes. Their positioning changes."

"That's just not possible."

"It is. At night, they move. You can look for yourself. In the morning, drive on this road all the way from your house and note where the gargoyles are. You can see them from the gate with no trouble. The next morning, look again. They will have moved."

I swallowed hard and tapped my pen thoughtfully against my desk. Shifting gargoyles. People going missing. It sounded fishy. What would it take for me to believe Angela, or to fully disregard hers or the other people's in town beliefs like I had before her story?

"Just never go through the gate. If you do, you won't come back."

"You're sure about that?" I breathed.

"I am."

I patted her on the arm. "I'll heed your warning. Thanks, Angela, for telling me what you know."

"You're welcome. Just be careful who you tell if you still don't believe me. Everyone here is just as scared as I am of that place."

Half an hour later, Angela and Jessica were punched out and muttered soft goodnight's while I locked up the store. I smiled at the truck parked around back before climbing in. I was surprised I loved the rusted, red piece of metal as much as I did. Having the truck dad had bought off his friend, Billy Black, years back made me feel better about my decision to sell the flashy cars my mother had bought us. I'd never felt right driving the Porsche anyway. I never felt right accepting such expensive gifts from my mother but she usually gave me no choice.

I inhaled the deep scent of peppermint and ignored the lingering remnants of tobacco smoke before starting the truck and heading home the way I'd driven in. Angela had given me so much to think about. I felt the deep need to disprove the town's theories. To do that, I would need evidence. To get evidence, I would need to search. I could ask more people about the history of the place. I felt a bit silly now that I'd paid Angela so much attention.

In the morning, I would drive by the Cullen home, and see where the gargoyles were. The next morning, they would be in the same place and I could rest well and let the town believe what they wanted to believe, but at least I would know the truth. They had to be mistaken. Their fear must be clouding their judgment. Gargoyles couldn't move.

Everyone should know that.

* * *

**Thanks to YxControl and rhpsfaerie, who have finally convinced me to give this writing thing a try. If you liked, or disliked, please review? Thanks.**


	2. Observation

**Accursed**

**Chapter 2**

**Observation

* * *

**

It was an impossible thing to sleep through, Charlie's coughing. His wheezing and hacking seemed to echo through the house, waking me up a good two hours earlier than what was really necessary. He sounded like he was growing winded from the effort of clearing his lungs.

I only left my room after hearing the assuring sound of the cruiser being started, followed by the crinkling of tires crushing gravel on its way out of the drive. I now had the house to myself and thanks to the coughing, I was no longer tired. My shower was quick, rushed by the rumbling growing in my stomach. I had things to think about before I left the house and checked on the store. Taking my time in the shower would give me nothing but pruny skin.

To my demise, but not surprise, the cabinets were nearly empty. I should have guessed as much since Charlie had brought home dinner the last two nights. He apparently wasn't one for shopping. Or cooking. I grabbed the lone box of Raisin Bran and poured myself a depressing-looking bowlful. The cigarettes resting in the center of the table were brushed aside. He really needed to make some changes. I wondered if maybe I could be the one to help him quit smoking.

I added grocery shopping to my mental list of things to do, right underneath "check on gargoyles" and "organize closet." If I was going to believe or not believe in the ruckus around town, I needed facts, and I wanted my own few of the mansion before I asked anyone else about its haunting. I would have to do this in secret. I would be breaking the only rule Charlie had set. Mom wouldn't approve.

Thinking of her brought my attention to the pictures hanging in the hall. Most were of me, or of Charlie's friends from the reservation. Two, though, had my mother in them.

The first was a wedding photo. I smiled at it. Charlie looked like a stranger standing next to my mother, with his face shaven, his hair full, and his cheerful expression. He looked like he believed himself to be the happiest man on earth. At the time, I bet he did. He looked like the opposite of my mother. They were two ends of a spectrum. Dad, rugged, not handsome but not bad-looking. And then there was my mother. Shoulder length brown hair, curled and bouncing, with wide, blue eyes and beautiful cheekbones. I had more of Charlie in me than Renee. I could see it now more than ever before.

The second was of a trio. My mother stood holding me on the front steps of the house, me bundled up in blankets while Charlie's arm draped over her shoulder. I glanced between the wedding picture and this one, shocked by the differences. Dad looked happy, but worn, and clearly aging. Mom looked like she was faking her smile, not letting it come naturally like in the wedding picture. She must have been unhappy even on that day when she brought me home.

I reached out and ran my fingertips over the glass pane protecting the photo, wistfully dragging my hand across. I found myself wishing she'd managed to be happy with my father. I found myself wishing she was still alive so I could ask her more questions about what went wrong. The tears came, and slowly went. I allowed them to pass.

Through the sniffles, I cleaned and tidied my room before organizing the closet. Once satisfied, I pulled my nearly dry hair up into a ponytail and grabbed my jacket. It was mid-March and the air still held a chill to it.

Shopping in and of itself was easy to do, and wasn't an issue. Ignoring the questioning and lingering gazes was an issue. As I rounded the aisles, eyes followed.

I didn't blame them. Forks was a lowly populated town. Any newcomer would be thrust under the citizens' microscopes. In my case, though, I wasn't only a newcomer. My mother was known here. My father was well-liked. I was the long-lost daughter returned to her roots, thrown into a temperature and culture shock while dealing with the death of a parent and handling ownership of an inherited business.

Of course there would be talk. I just wished I didn't have to be the center of it.

After acquiring everything I felt was necessary I tried to hurry out the checkout line. The lady ringing up my items, Claudia, kept peeking at me when she thought I wasn't looking. When she went to scan the jug of milk, she spoke up.

"Are you Isabella Swan?"

Her voice was strangely high pitched. I just nodded, and didn't bother to correct her calling me by my full first name.

"Well, welcome to Forks. How's the business going?"

"Oh fine," I replied simply. I was hoping she would leave it at that, but of course, she didn't.

"That's good to hear. It must be a load to carry, being as you're so young..."

I didn't want to explain how the company seemed to run itself, and so I said, "I'm managing."

She gave me a small smile. "And I'm sorry to hear about Renee. I'm proud to say that I once knew her. That was a long time ago, though," she added wistfully.

My words caught in my throat at the mentioning of my mother. Not wanted to cry for a second time today, I was forced to resort to nodding again. I paid for my groceries and politely said goodbye, rushing out the front doors with my shopping cart and very nearly hitting the boy that was trying to enter the store.

"Whoa! Speed demon. Careful there," he said. I looked up at him. He had blond hair neatly gelled to stick up straight and bright blue eyes. His smile was kind, but he looked young.

"Sorry," I apologized, my cheeks reddening. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's no problem. Uhm, I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"You haven't. I just moved here."

"Isabella Swan?"

I barely stifled the oncoming groan. "It's just Bella."

"Well, Bella," he said, thrusting out his hand, "I'm Mike Newton."

I took his hand a bit reluctantly. It felt awkward to be shaking hands in the doorway of the grocery store. "Nice to meet you."

"Same to you. If you end up needing help finding anything around town, or Port Angeles, or anything else, feel free to stop by my family's sporting goods store next door."

"That's thoughtful of you," I said slowly. Mike was almost overly helpful but I tried to accept his kindness for what it was. "Thanks. I will."

"No problem. See you around."

He left and I walked on. I looked behind me after a couple of steps. Maybe he wasn't as young as I first thought.

Once the groceries were put away at home, I think I stared at the wall for a good half hour before I decided to leave. The store didn't really need me there. I thought I knew how a business was supposed to work, but then again, my degree seemed to have prepared me for starting a new business rather than picking one up that was already developed. I didn't have to do much. I had managers, assistants, and advisors for that. I couldn't imagine how hard it had been for my mother to start it all, but was happy all the same that she'd done so well. She seemed to have it rigged perfectly. No wonder she was able to travel so often, and so easily.

It's perfection made my input feel quite pointless. I reaped its profit. I felt bothered by its easiness.

When I hopped back in the truck, I purposefully ignored the route that Charlie had set for me and took off in the opposite direction, straight down the highway that would lead me past the Cullen mansion. I kept constantly checking my mirrors and looking behind me, and to either side, half expecting my dad's cruiser to start flashing its lights any second. Breaking the rules always made me feel super paranoid.

The road was long and very curvy. Trees were dense to either side of me, so thick that I couldn't see anything past the first line of towering trunks and branches. Thankfully the morning fog had cleared. The sharp curves would have been more dangerous if the mist was there to blur my vision and judgment of distance.

All of the sudden, to my left, the trees turned into ivy covered brick. Broken lamps were spaced evenly along the top side of the wall, though some were missing completely. I swallowed, trying to calm myself down by telling myself what to expect. The home would look beaten and worn. There would be creepy trees and a creepy walkway, feeding the rumors that the place was haunted. Everything about the place would scream evil. I had to remember that it wouldn't be haunted, at least to me, until I had proof.

The gate came into view so I slowed. There was enough space on the shoulder for me to pull off and park on the side of the road and I shut off my truck. Gravel crunched under my feet as I walked up, feeling more brave than I thought I should have.

When I looked past the black gate, my eyes widened.

Everything was overgrown. Straight in front of me was a cobbled pathway, outlined by the trees and shrubs growing to either side. From the road, I had a clear view of the middle front of the mansion. It was painted a deep red, and about five windows on each side of the elaborate door was visible. I could tell from just seeing this much why the town could easily believe it to be home to something inhuman. The brush mixed with the huge, untended home and gray sky had an eerie effect.

And perched on the rooftop, just like Angela said, were six gargoyles.

They looked menacing enough from afar. I didn't have to get up close to experience their chill. Two even had their wings outstretched.

I did as Angela said, and tried to memorize their spacing and how they were positioned. Four of them were close together in the direct center, while the two on the outer edge were further from the four because of their wings. From where I stood, they looked to be no more than two feet apart.

I pressed closer against the gate, looking around the brick to either side. The trees blocked my view from anything else. I already knew from what I'd driven by that anything to my left would be blocked, too. Determined to find a hole in the greenery, I walked forward a good twenty paces and grabbed the top of the wall, struggling to pull myself up so I could look over.

My gaze was met by a quantity of branches that I couldn't even begin to count. There was no way to see anything else without actually going through the gate.

After staring at the gargoyles again, I took a closer look at the gate itself. It's hinges were rusty from wear and weather. The chain holding the two doors together was broken, simply roped around without a lock. That didn't seem very safe. If people had supposedly gone missing at this location, why hadn't the police at least locked up the gate in protection of the people?

Even more strange was the fact that the police had let the rumors spread. Why hadn't the house been knocked down, or bought, or renovated? I looked to the side and found what I was looking for. Ivy had grown and covered up the plaque, but I pulled it away. In elaborate, gold lettering, it read _The Cullens'._

Who were the Cullens? Where were they now? And why had they left their home to age instead of taking care of it, or selling the estate? It didn't make sense.

It didn't add up.

There was nothing more I could learn by staring at the mansion. I was going to have to ask more people about what they knew concerning the history of the home.

As I drove past and watched the road until the brick gave way to trees again, I thought about why it mattered so much to me. I wondered why I just _had _to know if the place was really haunted or not.

I couldn't ignore my curiosity. I didn't like superstitions. For some reason, knowing an entire town of people of all ages feared a house annoyed me. I wasn't saying that the paranormal didn't exist, or that real hauntings couldn't be found. The information the town was basing their beliefs on seemed strange, was all.

I just had to figure out who I was going to ask next.

* * *

**I had some really great response to the first chapter! Thanks so much for that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. Review with your thoughts?**

**:)**


	3. Charlie's Second Warning

**Accursed**

**Chapter 3**

**Charlie's Second Warning

* * *

**

The place was packed. A line of about fifteen people stood in front of the cafe counter, all waiting to place their orders. The checkout lines on the other side of the store weren't much better. Both registers were manned and still, ten people stood in each one, a few of them straining to hold their mounds of books.

Aisles between bookshelves were crowded and I had to weave around bodies, trying to make it to the office in the back of the store. As I did so, I knocked over a display of vampire books, toppling the stand right over and nearly hitting a toddler that was trailing behind his mother.

Cursing under my breath, I picked up everything, placing the books whose pages had been creased or folded from the fall on the bottom so the weight of the others would hopefully bend them back into place. People stepped over me and around me to pass.

"Ms. Swan?"

My name was being called and I stood. A young man holding a blue book was standing behind me.

"Yes, John?" It was one of the two managers who worked the store.

"Hi. How are you?"

He seemed to be rocking on his toes. "Okay, I guess. You?"

"Fine, fine, but, um, is there a reason you're here?"

That puzzled me. "I'm just here to work. Why would you ask that?"

"Just wondering... I should probably go put these receipts away."

"Okay..."

He walked away as fast as he could. That was strange.

I sat for awhile in the office, going over a few faxes sent to the store and answering numerous phone calls. I made a few, too, to one of the publishing companies and its supplier. A shipment we'd sent out was running late and I needed to know where it was. The person on the other end of the line was obviously Asian and I had a hard time understanding him. It took an hour to settle the mess.

By then, it was the afternoon, and the store was busier than when I came in. In order to clear out the line waiting for coffee I washed my hands and strapped on an apron, smiling at the three workers behind the desk when they gave me questioning looks. I shooed them away from the register and told them to fill the orders while I took them. They listened, but were jumpy about it.

I collapsed into the chair in the office once the counter cleared out. My shoes were hurting my feet.

"Ms. Swan?"

I turned as John peered his head in. "Hey. And you can just call me Bella."

"Oh, I couldn't..." His cheeks reddened. It made his freckles stand out all the more and gave him the image of a tomato when considered with his flaming orange hair.

"What do you need?"

"Well, I was just going to say that I think we have everything settled if you needed to leave."

I rose an eyebrow. "I don't need to leave. Is something going on?"

He visibly gulped. "Well, I, er, I've been told by some of the employees..."

The way he trailed off and glanced around the room, and pretty much everywhere _but _my face, made me want to shout for him to spit it out.

"Your presence is making everyone nervous."

I wasn't sure of what to say. "What do you mean?"

John was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. "It's just...we haven't had the owner here in a very long time. It's not normal. We expected you to actually come in yesterday but, I mean, I... Never mind. It's really, really not my place to say anything. You're the boss."

John had zero spine. I was very annoyed by what he said, though. The store was feeling on edge because _I _was here? Did I really inflict that much...intimidation?

"I still don't get why my presence does all of this. I'm here because I didn't think that I would be able to handle this business from far away. It seems, though, that I could..."

Maybe it was completely stupid to move to Forks. If my mother could run it from afar, why couldn't I, too? Maybe I'd made the decision to leave Phoenix far too quickly.

I couldn't lie to myself, though. I felt like I had to get out of there. Too many things reminded me of my mom. That had made the decision that much easier to make. I was a runaway.

"John, I want you to tell them that they have no reason to feel so freaking nervous. I'm just a _person_. I'm not going to eat them."

"But, if you're here...what's the point of having me and Daniel as managers?"

I laughed. "Are you trying to tell me that both of you deserve to be fired?"

His eyes widened in shock. "No! I...I just thought..."

"You're here to help me run this store. It makes no difference that I'm here. Now go do your job."

"Yes, Ms. Swan."

"It's Bella, John."

"Yes, yes."

I stared at the closed door after he left and laughed shakily. My being here seemed redundant and unnecessary. What John said had some truth to it, I guess, but it didn't change my decision to try to be a working member of Swan's rather than just the owner. And besides, it wasn't like I had anything else to do. I was fulfilling what I'd gained an education for.

When the first shift of the day passed, I prepared to leave. I was too tired to work any longer. To my shock, when I dug in my coat pocket for my keys, they weren't there. I patted myself down searching for them but couldn't find them.

"I can't believe I lost my keys," I said to myself, dropping to my knees and looking around the desk's legs for them. I shoved things aside, looking in the cracks up against the wall. When they didn't turn up, I started searching around the store, asking the employees as I walked if they'd seen them, or if anyone had turned them in.

After thirty minutes, I finally found them in the stack of vampire books I'd stocked before. They must have fallen out of my pocket when I stretched out earlier, trying to sort the mess I'd made. I held on to them tight, said goodbye to John and corrected him one more time when he called me Ms. Swan before hurrying to my truck.

I stood back and stared at the front left tire.

"Well my day just keeps getting better and better," I said angrily. I kicked the flattened donut and leaned back against the driver door. Everything needed to change the flat was in the bed of the truck. All that was left was someone who actually knew how to change the thing. Before calling anyone, I went back inside and walked around, blushing in embarrassment, asking everyone I'd just asked if they'd seen my keys if they knew how to change a flat tire. I knew I had to look pathetic. A boy named Nolan claimed to have a father who was a mechanic and followed me outside. He changed it in no time and I thanked him.

"So...could I go home early since I helped you out?" he asked hopefully. I eyed his face. His jet black hair reached his shoulders, and then some.

"Ask Daniel. Thank you again for helping me."

"Sure thing," he said, but he didn't look very happy about it. I hopped in my car and pulled out of the lot, wanting to get home before anything else bad could go wrong.

I hit a squirrel. It doubled back, and my attempted swerve to miss it ended up being the one that killed it. I said a silent apology to the animal, feeling overwhelming sadness for having killed it. I didn't mean to. My sighs filled the cab.

Charlie was home when I slammed the front door shut and threw my keys on the table much harder than what I should have.

"Rough day?" he asked. A finger flicked his beer can open.

I fell into a chair, running my fingers through my hair and freeing it from its elastic band. "Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?" He hesitated, but then offered up his beer. It must be weird for him to offer his daughter that.

I shook my head. "No beer. No talk."

He nodded, seeming to understand, and coughed, trying to ease the tension sizzling from where I sat. "Thanks for going shopping."

"You're welcome. Would you like me to make you dinner?"

"You don't have to..."

"No, it's fine. Cooking may help."

"Oh. Okay then."

I shuffled around the kitchen, glancing into the cabinets and trying to remember what all I had bought at the store. My mind was all cluttered. It seemed difficult to even focus enough to read the labels right in front of me. Charlie looked uncomfortable, and as though he wasn't sure what he should do. He moved out of the way awkwardly when I went for the refrigerator door and that made him decide he would go in the living room. It was better that way. I sighed, basking in the quiet. The living room television was easy to tune out.

The box of dry pasta looked appetizing and I decided to make spaghetti. I struggled to pry the flap of the cardboard up, and in the attempt, was pulling much too hard when it opened. Noodles flew everywhere, clattering against the tiled floor and across the table.

"You okay in there?" I heard Charlie call from the living room.

"Fine!"

I muttered to myself, picking up the mess. Today was swiftly becoming one of the worst I'd had in a while. Everything was going wrong and it all started when I walked into the door of the store.

After rinsing off the noodles and inspecting them, I decided to go ahead and cook them anyway. It help distract me, and soon enough all I couldn't think about anything. That was better than having a million things to think about.

I took a plate to Charlie, poking him softly to wake him up. He'd fallen asleep with his hand on the remote and his mouth wide open. He snorted, coming to, and wiped his eyes.

"Thanks, Bells. It smells good."

I smiled and grabbed my own plate before joining him on the couch.

"What are you watching this channel for?" I asked. He squinted at the television. He'd landed on one showing _The Hunchback of Notre Dame _by Disney.

"Must have fallen asleep while flipping channels."

The gargoyles followed Quasimodo around the castle and brought my concerns from the morning back to the surface. It seemed like so long ago that I'd driven by the mansion and witnessed it's own gargoyles.

My curiosity surfaced, too, taking precedence over my annoyance with my awful day. It looked like I was going to question Charlie first.

"Some other people have warned me to stay away from the mansion, too," I said, trying to make it sound offhand.

He slurped his food and patted his mouth with a napkin, nodding. "I'm not surprised. Even though it's old news, it's still talked about all of the time."

"One of my co-workers told me more about the place. They said that the gate to the mansion isn't kept locked?"

"It's not."

"Why not?" I was trying to be sneaky about my questioning. Charlie was still talking, so I hoped that meant it was working.

"The place speaks for itself. You haven't driven down past it, have you?" His eyebrow was raised. I shook my head, lying. He could never know I broke that rule. "It looks evil. It doesn't take much to keep everyone out."

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about the property? Why not knock down the house? Or renovate it?"

It took him a little while to answer. Hopefully he wasn't trying to read into my questions. "Well, we can't. It still has an owner."

"An owner? Then why does it look..." I had to catch myself. "I mean, why does everyone say it looks haunted? I was told no one took care of the place. It was rundown."

Charlie set his plate aside and wiped his mouth. "You really want to know the history of the place?"

"Yeah, if it's not too much trouble."

He eyed me skeptically, but then nodded, to my relief. "Knowing about it might help keep you away from it, I guess.

"It all started about twenty years ago, when you and your mother still..." He coughed uncomfortably. I had to shift my legs on the couch. "Well, up until then, the place was just another piece of unused property. No one lived there, but it wasn't just abandoned. The Cullens still owned it, and they still do today.

"Now who they Cullens _are, _I haven't a clue. No one has ever met them, or seen them in town. The house was apparently built in the early 1900's, and they bought it from the Masens who owned it at the time. We found the records of the family when we went digging after the first disappearance in town, which was actually about the time of your second birthday.

"After that, though, there's nothing. There isn't a paper trail leading to the Cullen's. The Cullens might as well not even exist.

"What does exist, though, is the record that the Masens sold the house to the Cullens in 1918. We can't touch it. We have no evidence that the disappearances are because of something in that mansion, so we can't get a search warrant.

"That doesn't explain the gargoyles, though. Were you told about them?"

I would probably get more out of him if I pretended I didn't. "No."

"Well," he started again, "they move. Now I usually don't believe in that kind of stuff. Paranormal activity, hauntings, you name it. But I've witnessed this. One day, the gargoyles were all close together. The next, a good foot was between them. You can't fake that."

"What if someone is purposefully moving them, to mess with the town?"

"We've already considered that explanation. Huge chunks of stone?" He snorted. "Not easily done."

"Well, have you actually seen them up close? What if it isn't really stone? What if it's some kind of imitation?"

He shrugged. "It could be, I guess. From the road, though, they look completely real. And though I hate to say it, everyone is too scared out of their minds to go in and inspect the place."

"Why don't you bring an expert in?"

"We have. They couldn't get into the house. They took extra interest in the gargoyles, but saw nothing strange about them. That's why we don't think anyone is physically moving them around."

"So, you claim the place is haunted because of the gargoyles and random disappearances, but no one has been inside the house and actually checked out the place?"

"Only from the outside, and only during the day."

"Then you can see why I'm kind of quick to not believe you, dad."

He rose to his feet, his words coming out in a rush. "Bella, I'm not telling you it has to make logical sense. This isn't..._normal _stuff. You've only been here a couple of days. If you had lived here when that boy and that couple went missing, you might understand.

"Or maybe if you witnessed the changing gargoyles, you would actually believe us and take the warning to heart."

"Then I'll go look and see," I offered.

"I don't want you anywhere near the place!" he nearly roared. I shrank back into the cushions, surprised by the harsh tone in his voice. His features softened. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I don't want to risk anything. Just please, take my word for it? I wouldn't warn you unless it was something serious."

My plan was already settled, but I lied to him. Again. "Okay, dad."

"Thanks." He sighed deeply. "I'll do the dishes."

"Dad, I can..."

"I got it. Thanks, Bells."

That was all I was going to get out of him, it seemed. I nodded, and went to my room, laying back on my bed with my hands shoved under my pillows.

He was really serious about it all. Why couldn't I just let it go?

Why did I feel like I just _had _to know where the Cullens were?

././././.

I was extra jittery when I left the house the next morning. My coat was buttoned all the way up the front. The wind blowing was especially chilly, rosing my cheeks and nose without much effort. I paused when I noticed my tire. A new one was in place of my spare. I smiled, leaning a foot against it. It must have been Charlie. I reminded myself to thank him later. His thoughtfulness surprised me, enough so that I started rethinking my choice to check on the gargoyles and see if they'd moved, like I'd been told.

I swallowed but decided to go through with it. If I didn't do it today, I would just end up doing it later.

The trees loomed like they had the day before, making me feel closed in. Suffocated. I turned up the heat in the cab, waving my hands in front of the vents. The fog of the morning was nearly evaporated. Curves were easy to see around, and as a second thought, I realized I might not have to drive _that _carefully. If the town was really, really afraid, they wouldn't drive on this road. The day before no one had been traveling this highway. So far, no one was today, either.

I watched jade fade to crimson as the brick wall lining the mansion appeared and I pulled off the road, driving my truck into the impressions I'd already made in the mud yesterday.

For some reason, I just couldn't look up. I stood in front of the gate, running my fingers over the rusty chain.

Was I really hoping that the gargoyles didn't move?

Part of me was. It would have been nice to be able to prove a theory wrong.

The other part of me, though, hoped that they would. I half wanted the town to be telling the truth.

When I glanced up, I gasped.

Where the day before, six gargoyles had been sitting in the center of the roof, in the front, only five sat. The two who had their wings spread yesterday had them folded into their backs.

Off to the left, barely visible past the tree branches, sat the sixth.

I couldn't stop the chills running down my spine and down the back of my legs.

The gargoyles had _moved.

* * *

_

**I hope this is making a bit of sense so far. Thanks for the feedback! It's greatly appreciated.**

**Your thoughts?**


End file.
